ic inbox: tlv

[rickitikitarr]

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[omar]

[He returns the kiss, then glances the both of them over, raising a brow slightly.]

'ayo, you thinking you wanna come home, maybe?

[Because this bed is tiny, and he wants to keep snuggling close.]

[rickitikitarr]

Think they'll let us?

Normally I'd say 'fuck 'em' and run, but let's face it, I'm not really in any shape to make a daring escape.

[omar]

Pfft. Death toll exemption, darlin'. How they gonna stop me taking care of my boy?

Ain't like they can afford to be curbing my, you know, pro-social behaviors -- not if they concerned 'bout my rehabilitation.

[rickitikitarr]

You do that, I'll just stand there and look like this, then.

[He suggests, as he works his way gingerly to his feet. It's true; no one in their right minds would let him walk back to his cabin alone like this.]

[omar]

Think you can walk and look like that?

[He slips an arm under his shoulders, supporting him on his feet.]

I love you, but I don't know 'bout playing Kevin Costner all the way down eight floors.

[rickitikitarr]

I don't know who that is.

[But he leans into him, and manages to get walking, anyways.]